Departure
by Wedjatqi
Summary: Teyla has to deal with the events following 'Defeat' - 2nd Part of my Death and Life series. JT. Please read warning.


**Warning**: Contains details of character death and bereavement.

**Summary:** Set after 'Defeat', which was originally inspired by Azure Horizon's brilliant fic: 'Surrender'.

**Disclaimers**: I own no part of the Stargate world, I make no money from this endeavour. It allows me to let my muse out to play.

--

She walked into the hallways of Atlantis with Rodney trailing behind; his sadness helping her to once again to find her own strength and the powerful numbness that had been her friend for so long. It was good to feel numb again, but she knew it was superficial, knew that it only covered a deep well of pain and regret.

As she marched through the familiar corridors that she both loved and despised, she knew she could not remain here. He was gone and all she could associate this place with was sorrow, heavy politics and heartbreak. Lost dreams and painful silences.

"Where is he?" She asked Rodney over her shoulder as she headed towards the Infirmary. She could not quite manage to use the word 'body'.

"Ummm. There isn't much… there was a fire." Rodney muttered and stuttered.

She stopped in the corridor and turned back to her friend. Even through her problems with John and Atlantis' administration, he had remained a close friend, as had Ronon. The pain in his eyes now threatened her control.

"A fire?" She asked surprised at the forcefulness of her question. Rodney flinched slightly.

"We were evacuating one of the last buildings on this world where the people were….that doesn't matter….John, Lorne and a marine were still in the building trying to save the last people when..." He looked away, the tears threatening him again. It shocked Teyla to see him so emotional, but then he had witnessed it…

"I watched the flames close them in, heard cries." He studied the corridor wall intently as he worked to regain his composure. Teyla realised she had lain a hand on his arm in support. "The fire was very hot and the building collapsed on them. There is little left of them…of him. They say you can have one of his dog tags."

It was a strange last comment but she nodded. "Was his ring left?" She found herself asking.

Rodney's eyes shifted back to her with a new type of sadness. "I didn't see him wearing it and I didn't notice anything else around his…neck…when the tags were removed." He pressed his lips together, sealing away any more words, sealing away those horrid memories she knew he must have permanently ingrained in his mind. She did not regret him those images. Flashes of empathic feelings of what Rodney may be feeling led to the thoughts of what John must have experienced at the end. It was no way for anyone to die.

She squeezed Rodney's arm. "I think I will go to our…my quarters now. Pack things up. I will move back to the mainland after the funeral."

Rodney looked up sharply and she thought she saw panic through the sadness. "You're leaving? But, it's only just happened. Things will get easier with time."

She turned in the direction of her quarters and looked at Rodney over her shoulder. "Things have not been easy for a very long time."

And with that she left him in the corridor and headed towards the empty quarters.

--

She could not bear to turn on the lights, instead worked in the fading sunlight that filtered through the windows. She packed his clothes quickly, efficiently, with tears rolling down her cheeks. She could not take much more. His smell was on everything; a comforting familiar scent that she was now so vividly aware. The boxes and bags were stacked to one side, his side of the bed, whilst hers were on the other. She leant his skateboard and surfboard alongside the boxes and turned to their bed.

Sitting down on his side she began to gather the items off the top of his bedside table and them pulled open the top drawer. The ring set on a cord sat on top of his book. With shaking fingers she reached in and picked up the cord, and held it up. The fading light glittered on the ring. It looked brighter than her own, like he had taken better care of his. The thought was too much, so she quickly looped the cord over her head, feeling the ring come to rest against her chest, lower than her own.

She turned her attention to 'War and Peace'. Pulling it out she handled the roughened edges, so worn and handled over the years. He had still not finished it, and never would now. She parted the pages at the marker, only a few chapters from the end. He had spent more of his life in war than at peace and it was painful for her to realise that there had been no peace between them for a long time.

Her eyes fell to the words and she found herself reading them. She knew no characters and nothing of the storyline, but she kept reading, turning page after page. Water dripped down wetting the current page. The sound of the falling tears broke her out of her reading and she paused to watch the moisture sink into the paper. A sob threatened to break out of her throat but she held it in. Not yet, she needed to finish packing first or she may never have the strength to complete it.

Snapping the book shut she set it aside with his other things, but then reconsidered and laid it down on her side. She would take it with her and finish it for him. She returned her attention to the drawer and pulled out a small notebook littered with numbers and calculations she did not understand, but had seen him doodling down quite often. He had said it was a game.

Then she saw the photo beneath it. It was of them. She had never seen it before. It had been taken at a party, but she could not remember when or where. They were seated beside each other, unaware of the photographer. Their heads were bowed towards one another and laughing. The light and animated happiness in both their faces was so bright and beautiful that she felt her breath catch. The sob threatened to choke her now as she looked down at her lost husband; so happy, so handsome and looking at her with such love and affection.

She let the sob free, sliding off the bed to the floor with the photo clasped to her heart.

--


End file.
